Color Police
by Crawling Ivy
Summary: "The only thing you'll be saving," The Norwegian snapped, "is me any more trouble. Now, get to it."  Based off of the color police meme. Life in the police force. AU.
1. Fieldwork: Black

**A/N:** **So this fic here is based around the fanon color police thing. Um. Yeah. Have fun with this.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

Fieldwork: Black

Ludwig was sure working with his older brother was going to kill him someday. Probably today.

Presently, they were being held at gunpoint by a small group of rather angry mob members in the back room of a restaurant.

"Didya really think ya could just barge in on our meetin' like that?" The highest ranking member in the room sneered at them. "Didn't nobody warn ya coppers that ya ain't supposed to mess with us?"

All they had been told to do was to bug the room. Naturally, Gilbert thought the assignment was boring and "not worthy of his awesome," and he had decided to spice it up a little. His partner's "new and improved" plan (read: far more dangerous) consisted of barging in on the gathering, pointing a gun at the criminals, and screaming at them to put their hands up. As one could imagine, this did not go over well at all, especially considering that the criminals were armed and outnumbered them five to two.

Well, the events had played out as could be expected, and Ludwig was now a little more than positive that he was going to die from a bullet through the skull.

"That just ain't acceptable." The man shook his head. "Where are ya manners? Ya should at least knock, then we coulda just shot ya down at the door rather than cause all o' this commotion."

"Right!" Gilbert sounded... almost cheerful?

Oh, no. His brother didn't think his ego could deflect bullets, did he?

"But," He continued, "will this commotion be as big as the one when all your little minions turn on you for taking more than your share?"

Silence. Then, "What the hell is he talkin' 'bout?"

Heads turned towards their leader, who was slowly backing towards the door. "That ain't true, he's just makin' it up so ya have it out for me."

The egoistical man grinned. "You say that, but how long do you think you'll last once they find the safe?"

"Th-the safe?"

"The one you've hidden all the money in, of course!" He gestured rather jovially at a stack of crates. "Right under that pile of boxes!"

What the man was saying was suspicious, but seeing as their boss' reaction wasn't too promising either they decided to check it out.

_Bang. Bang._

Two of the criminals were shot in the head, and the other two met the same fate, too surprised to counterattack.

Gilbert whistled an upbeat tune as he slipped one of the guns into its holster and handed the other to his partner.

"Wait... what... that was my gun? _When did you steal my gun, Gilbert?_"

"Don't sweat it, West! You weren't gonna use it anyway." He turned to the leader, now frozen in place and only a few steps away from the door. "So, where's the real stash? I saw your expression when I called you out." He scratched his head. "Making shit up and being right still counts as calling you out, right?"

The man let out a strangled noise. Gilbert laughed.

"Guess so! We'd better cuff him and bring him in for interrogation, huh?"

Ludwig rubbed his temples, feeling a migraine coming on. He was sure working with Gilbert was going to kill him someday, if not by taking a bullet then from a heart attack.


	2. Interrogation Part 1: Violet

**A/N: Oh my, an update! Very short, but whatever. Long stuff is apparently not in my skill set. I'm considering mixing in assorted chapters called "Office Politics Part _," where the characters interact... you guessed it, in the office. If there are some you'd like to see together, tell me who, okay? But just know that I'll probably totally ignore a request for a pairing if I don't like them together because I'm a bitch like that. Chances are you'll end up with something platonic instead.**

**ALSO THANK YOU TO MY REVIEWER. Reviewer_s_, once I have more.**

**Disclaimer in last chapter. It'll stay there. It doesn't need to move around, now, does it?**

Interrogation Part 1: Violet

"Mon ami, it is not hard." Francis said as he entered the room and sat down. "Just tell me what you were discussing in that little gathering of yours, oui?"

The man eyed him dubiously. "Uhh... shouldn't ya know? The albino said he and his partner bugged the place."

The Frenchman looked rather amused. "The albino forgot to turn the equipment on."

The prisoner attempted to stifle a laugh. It didn't work very well. "An' why do ya look so pleased about this? I'd expect all it could cause ya is more trouble."

"Gilbert may be clever," He chuckled, "but his common sense can be, how should I say it... lacking. He is an old friend, his antics are simply amusing at this point."

"Friends, huh? Reminds me of my best friend. Haven't seen that guy in a while."

"Oh? He didn't go down the same path as you?" This was a mild shock. Usually friends stuck together in careers such as these.

"Nah, he said he didn't want to put up with my idiocy for any longer than he had to." He laughed.

"Sounds to me like your friend needed to learn the value of l'amour!"

"Love, huh? Ya'd get an earful from him if ya tried to talk to him about that kinda stuff. 'Shut up,'" He mimicked, "'no one wants to hear you go on about useless things like that.'"

"Ah, I know a man who speaks like that! They are very similar, non? Perhaps they could even be the same person!"

"Why the hell not? Ya never know."

"Indeed."

They sat silently for a moment, the officer trying to remember what he was supposed to be asking the prisoner about.

"Hey, is... is that wine?" Francis had carried the glass in, and for some reason the prisoner was just realizing this now.

"Oui." He said, a little smug.

"Should ya really be drinkin' that at work?"

"Non."

"... Ya got any more?"

Francis reached under the table and retrieved a bottle. "Would you like some?"

Another officer walked past the door to the interrogation room about a half an hour later, only to hear raucous laughter.

He paused for a moment and sighed.

"Idiots."

**A/N: France has super wine powerz. Don't question it, you know it's true.**


	3. Investigation: Purple

Investigation: Purple

"Gilbert always makes such messes." A smiling man stepped into the room where the thugs had been shot. "He should really be more considerate, dah?"

"R... right..." The lackey he was talking to tried to make himself as invisible as possible. If that terrifying man man would just stop looking at him...

"Is something wrong? You are looking unwell. Perhaps you should go home and get some rest?"

Clearly it wasn't working, but this was an even better option.

"You know, you may be right. I'll just..." He was interrupted by another coworker placing a hand on his shoulder. 

"_If you leave me here with him alone I will feed you your own genitals._" He whispered.

"... finish this investigation up before I head back!" Damn it all.

"If you are sure you are up to it, then we will be glad to have you here." Ivan smiled and patted his employee on the back. "It would be best to get started now, dah?"

"Y... yeah, definitely." He replied, quaking. What had he done in a past life to deserve to be placed in this man's division?

"Well then!" The Russian clapped his hands. "Let us start with retrieving what Gilbert has left here, and then we shall gather evidence. Please begin."

While debugging the room and gathering various clues, Ivan happened to search the crates, and lo and behold, there was a safe.

"Ah?" He was slightly taken aback. "This looks very much like the safe in my office, does it not?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so..."

"Hmm. Seventy-eight, seventy-seven, forty-two..."

The safe opened.

"Sheesh... Officer Beilschmidt really planned this out, didn't he?"

"Kol kol kol kol kol..." Their boss laughed coldly. "That he did."

Needless to say, this sufficiently terrified his two underlings.

"Stealing is very bad, isn't it?" The eerie smile was still on his face. "I suppose it does not matter. He and the others will all be in our division soon, after all."

**A/N: I swear they just keep getting shorter and shorter. Gilbert snuck the safe in prior to that whole event just in case something went wrong and he couldn't shoot the thugs in time.**

**Thanks for reading!  
If I ask you to review will it make you more likely to?**


	4. Interrogation Part 2: Navy

**A/N: Longish stuff? Two chapters per day? Are you in an alternate universe? Maybe.**

**Also, someone else reviewed! I'd just like to thank them, so THANK YOU!**

Interrogation Part 2: Navy

"LAAAAAARS!" The mob member was practically sparkling with excitement.

"Shut up. I'm here to question you, not to chat."

"It's been so long, man!" Dense as usual. Lars was in for a very long day. "How ya been?"

Lars ignored him. "What were you and the other members of the mob meeting about the other day?"

The other man looked at him roguishly. "Ya'd like to know, wouldn't ya?" He winked.

"_Mathias._ Stop your nonsense. Answer my question immediately."

The Dane leaned back in his chair. "I could..." He jerked forward. "...or we could catch up!"

"No."

"Come on, Lars, don't be such a stick in the mud! How's Eysteinn?"

"Why were you meeting them?"

"Laaars! C'mon, man! How can ya not want to talk to _this?_"

"Oh, let me count the ways." He murmured.

"Hey." Mathias leaned on the table. "Can ya get me somethin' to drink?"

His Norwegian friend leaned away in distaste. "I can get you water."

"C'mon, man, ya can do better than that!"

"It's not going to happen."

"Boo." Mathias pouted. "Lars, ya can be so borin'."

"I don't care. Answer my question."

"Fine, fine!" The mobster sighed. "We were just talkin'."

Finally, progress! "About what?"

"Oh, ya know, just what we would do if we got caught."

"An escape plan?"

"Yes indeed, involving distractions."

Knowing the man, he wasn't really sure he wanted to ask, but... "What sort of distractions?"

His old "friend" smirked. "Just, y'know, this."

And with that he kissed Lars straight on the mouth.

Time froze. Not because Lars was enjoying the kiss (that was impossible, of course), but because he was too shocked to do anything else. Then,

"DAMN IT! GET OFF OF ME!"

Lars shoved a hysterical Mathias away, hard. He got up and stormed out of the interrogation room, slamming the door.

The remaining man managed to cut his laughter down to sporadic bursts of giggling.

"Haha. Ha. Hahahahaha."

* * *

"You gave him wine." Lars said frostily.

Francis cast an amused eye at the man who had just entered the office. "Ah, you're blushing! What happened?"

"I'm not blushing-"

"Mon ami, you are!"

"I'm not your friend and I'm not blushing!"

The Frenchman grinned. "What did he do? Did he kiss you?"

"That's not important! The point is-"

"He did, then?"

"The point is," Lars said, his ears turning red, "You gave a prisoner wine! Firstly, you shouldn't be bringing alcohol to work, secondly, YOU SHOULDN'T BE GIVING IT TO PRISONERS!"

"Was he any good at it?"

"FUCK YOU!" At this, the Norwegian turned on his heel and left.

"It seems I was right." Francis said, smirking. "He really does need to learn something about l'amour."

* * *

The door to the interrogation room opened and Lars stepped in, having for the most part calmed himself down.

"Hey, buddy!" Mathias turned in his seat to face the officer. "I knew ya'd be back for more!"

He almost went postal right then, but instead slowly cuffed the Dane to the chair.

Mathias was unfazed. "Wow, Lars, I had no idea you were into that kind of thing."

"I'm not."

Now the criminal was a little creeped out. "Lars?"

"Now, answer honestly." The Norwegian said as he sat down opposite the prisoner, smiling coldly. "Why were you and your little friends meeting up the other day?"

**A/N: Me? Ship DenmarkxNorway? Never! And yes, Mathias is rather tipsy. I don't think he'd be stupid enough to kiss his friend otherwise. I hope.**


	5. Questioning Possible Witnesses: Blue

**A/N: I added Canada to the blue division, as he's usually just mistaken for America anyway, so why not? I'm really glad I did, actually, because it made this chapter A LOT easier to write.**

**I'd also like to thank anyone who reviewed!**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

Interviewing Possible Witnesses – Blue

_8:30 a.m. Assignment begins._

_Today my partner and I were told to track down witnesses that could have overheard the contents of the meeting, seeing as despite Officer Lars Vea's prodding, the prisoner Mathais Langer refuses to give up any information._

"He won't. Tell me. Anything." Lars was beyond fed up with the Dane. "GO! Find someone who will ACTUALLY GIVE US INFORMATION!"

Their boss nodded. "'F he's n't tell'ng 's th'ngs, 't's a pr'blem. G' f'x 't."

After taking a few minutes to interpret what exactly they had been told to do, Alfred F. Jones saluted the man.

"You can count on me! I'm a her, I'll save the city one way or another!"

"The only thing you'll be saving," The Norwegian snapped, "is _me_ any more trouble. Now, get to it."

_8:38 a.m. Headed to Dunkin' Donuts._

_Officer Jones woke up too late and forgot to eat breakfast (again) so we'll be making a stop for breakfast (sorry, sir!). With any luck we'll be back to work within a half an hour._

"Matt…" The "hero" whined, "I'm hungry! Can we stop and get some food? Pleeeeease?"

His brother scowled, but obliged. "Never again. Next time you either have to get up on time or at least grab something on the way out."

Matthew Williams was lying through his teeth. The American had a lot of control over him, if only because he was so damn annoying.

_8:47 a.m. Parked at Dunkin' Donuts._

_Waiting in the car for Officer Jones to make his purchase._

"Hmm." Alfred tapped his lips with his index finger pensively. "Do I want jelly donuts? Glazed? There are so many choices!" He was like a little boy in a candy shop, except for the fact that he was a grown man in a Dunkin' Donuts. Which were, apparently, pretty much the same thing.

_9:13 a.m. Still parked at Dunkin' Donuts._

_This is insane. I'm going in._

While the exuberant man was still in the middle of pondering the choices, the doors burst open.

"HE'LL HAVE TWO DOZEN!" The Canadian screamed. "IT DOESN'T MATTER WHICH TYPE! GO, GO, GO!"

More than a little disturbed, the poor employee began filling the boxes as fast as possible and racing to the cash register.

"Here, this should cover it." The man handed him thirty dollars, seeming much more subdued. "Just… keep the change"

And with that he despairingly picked up the donuts and dragged the man who had been holding up the line out the door.

_9:15 a.m. En route to the restaurant._

_I successfully retrieved Officer Jones from the Dunkin' Donuts. We are now on our way to the restaurant where the meeting took place to evaluate the worth of the owners as possible witnesses._

"Matt, you're a genius!"

"Hn?" 

"You just got a bunch of different kinds of donuts! That's so much more exciting than picking a few kinds! Way to go, man!"

"…"

It was truly a miracle that Matthew had not killed his brother yet.

_9:39 a.m. Arrived at restaurant._

_We'll be talking to the owners soon. Hopefully Officer Jones won't do anything too stu… too much stupider than what he's already done._

"Hey!" The louder man banged on the door. "This is the police! Open up!"

The door quickly opened. "Like, what do you think you're doing? It's like six in the morning, and I need my beauty sleep!"

"Feliks! That's a police officer!" A rather nervous looking man appeared and began to chide him… her? "Don't talk to him like that! Besides, it's around 9:40." He turned to Alfred. "Sorry about that, he's pretty short tempered."

"Hey!" Feliks looked slightly offended.

"It's not a problem! A hero always forgives people!"

The Polish man snorted. "Do you, like, _hear_ this guy, Toris? He's not a hero, he ruined my beauty sleep! Ugh, what am I supposed to do now?"

"Hey, I am too a hero!"

"Like, you totally aren't!"

"Am too!"

"Are not!"

"Am too!"

"Are not!"

_11:32 a.m. At McDonald's._

_Toris Laurinaitis and I finally managed to pull Officer Jones and Feliks_ _Łukasiewicz apart after two hours of them engaging in a pointless argument. As it happens, they were out of town until yesterday, when the Purple Division came to collect evidence (which explains why Mr. Laurinaitis looked so nervous, a run-in with Officer Braginski can do that to anyone). Figures. Anyway, Officer Jones has declared it time for lunch, so we're going to McDonald's. Again._

"Yaaaaay!" The American bounded over to the counter eagerly, his brother following reluctantly behind. "I'll have eight burgers!"

"Alright." The woman behind the counter gave him a strange look, but told him the cost of his meal nonetheless. He paid eagerly and ran to the other end of the counter to wait for his food. "Next!" The woman announced, not looking up from the register.

The Canadian approached. "Um, I would like…" He began.

The woman looked up. "Nobody left, huh?" She shrugged.

Matthew was not pleased.

_11:52 a.m. Returning to the precinct._

_Let's face it, we're not getting anything done and we're not _going_ to get anything done. Also, I'd like to request a transfer into a different division, preferably espionage. I would be much more useful there than I am here._

_**Request denied, you're the only one who can keep Officer Jones somewhat on track. Keep at it, Officer Williams.**_

**A/N: So yeah, Sweden's their boss. Sorry if I did the way he speaks wrong. Also this seemed like a good time to introduce Poland and Lithuania (read: I didn't want to make the owners of the restaurant nobodies), so that's why they're there.**


	6. Traffic Control: Turquoise

**A/N: I give you full rights to stab me with the weapon of your choice. I'M SO SORRY EVERYONE. It's been so long, and this chapter is terrible... Ugh.. At least it's here? Anyway, recently I realized that "Lars" is actually used for _the Netherlands._ -headdesk- I did not realize this at all, and assumed it was given to Norway because Lars and Mathias are together so often. Oh well, I guess it's fine. I DID pick out a name for the Netherlands, so it's not like he's been forgotten.**

**Now I would like to thank my reviewers in particular and offer to commit seppuku for them, because I feel even worse about not updating because they're there.**

Traffic Control – Turquoise

Sadiq Anan hated his job.

When I say "hate," I'm not talking about the flimsy dislike which people throw around likely. I'm talking about the sort of full blown resentment that comes from your whole family being killed or something along those lines.

Granted, nothing like that had ever happened to Sadiq, but still...

He hated his job.

He hated the long hours, the low pay, the lack of vacation time. He hated his uniform. He hated his coworkers: his stoic boss; the loud, annoying man (who he was _positive_ had a partner, but he could never remember just who it was); that bastard who was always napping with at least one cat.

_Especially _the cat-napping Greek.

But most of all he hated the job he was forced to do every single day.

Traffic control.

Sure, he knew he was new to the force, but really, he'd even take paperwork over _that_.

Instead he was stuck wearing a ridiculous neon-orange vest and standing at one of the busiest intersections in town.

At least he got to yell at people.

"HEY! YOU! THAT'S AT LEAST TEN MILES OVER THE SPEED LIMIT! SLOW DOWN! AND YOU OVER THERE! DON'T THINK I MISSED THE FACT THAT YOU DIDN'T HAVE RIGHT OF WAY!"

He quickly scribbled the license plate numbers down on his trusty notepad, noting each offense besides their respective numbers.

A black SUV chose the next moment to run a red light.

"I SAW THAT!" He bellowed. Sadiq glanced at the license plate and wrote the number down, but...

"Who the hell would be stupid enough to put _that_ on their plate?" He muttered, looking down at what he had written.

_LUVBEER._

Really, did this guy even _think_?

* * *

"Hey, Officer Beilschmidt!"

"Oh, hey, new guy! Shift just end?"

"Yeah, Just wanted to ask," Sadiq held out his notepad, "is this your license plate number?"

The albino scrutinized the paper for a moment. Then,

"As much as I love beer, I'd have to be an idiot to drive around with _that_ on my car. Much more trouble than it's worth."

'You _are_ an idiot,' The Turk though, but wisely chose not to voice his views.

"Ask Francis." His senior suggested. "If anyone would know, it's be him."

"I'll do just that. Oh, just a warning... I passed by the Purple Division earlier, and Officer Braginski seemed to be out for blood. Specifically yours."

Gilbert threw him a cocky smirk. "I know."

* * *

"Ah, Officer Anan!" The Frenchman greeted him. "How may I be of service?"

"Officer Beilschmidt told me that you might be able to help with this." Sadiq said as he flashed his notepad.

Francis leaned forward to read it, swishing his wine around in his mouth pensively.

"I wonder... Yes," He announced. "I may know who this belongs to, I just need to double check."

"When can you let me know?"

"Very, very soon! Wait here for a moment, _s'il-vous __plaît._"

The Frenchman got up and opened the door. "LARS!" He screeched, and the Turk heard clattering and swearing from the next room.

"He'll be with us in just a moment," He said, smiling sweetly.

Sadiq was not disappointed. True to Bonnefoy's word, the door opened again a minute later and Officer Vea stepped in.

"Was that really necessary, Bonnefoy?"

His coworker opened his mouth to speak, but the Norwegian lifted his hand in a gesture for him to stop. "On second thought, please don't answer that. Officer Anan," He nodded in greeting to the traffic officer, then turned back to Francis. "What is it you want?"

We were wondering if this license number belongs to a certain Mathias Langer?"

Sadiq held up the notepad.

"It's his," Lars confirmed. "He mentioned it while trying _not_ to answer my questions. Even gave me the spelling."

"Well," The head of the Violet Division said joyfully, "there's your man!"

Lars, however, looked a little more than skeptic. "Who's driving that?"

The Turk raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you just tell us that?"

Officer Vea shot him a look. "Mathias Langer is in custody, _so who is driving that?_"

Francis frowned and Sadiq blinked. "Now that... is a _very_ good question."

**A/N: Well there you have it. Chapter something-or-other. I think six? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. I'd appreciate it if you reviewed, but that's really up to you in the end, isn't it? Regardless whether you review or not, thanks for reading!**


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